


A little taste

by asuralucier



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Food Trucks, Genre: Sour - Freeform, Genre: Sweet - Freeform, Ice Cream, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: Charlie and Nicole grab a little treat after their divorce.
Relationships: Charlie/Nicole (Marriage Story)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9
Collections: Eat Drink and Make Merry 2020





	A little taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lucymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucymonster/gifts).



Charlie said, “Feel better?” 

Nicole started at Charlie’s question. It was only a natural question to ask under these circumstances, and against her instincts, Nicole could feel herself gearing up for a fight. She was not a naturally angry person, but nowadays, it didn’t take much to be angry at Charlie. Even if she didn’t always show it, it was easy. 

Something else that was easy: the anger was so second nature to Nicole now, that she sometimes picked up her anger towards Charlie without thinking about its origins. She used to, because being angry at her husband was such a strange thing. Nicole didn’t like to think of herself as having one of those marriages. 

But now it was done. Done and dusted. Signed, sealed, and delivered—literally. 

Although Nicole couldn’t help but remember with a little wince, that it nearly hadn’t been so easy. Charlie had asked the judge’s clerk for some white-out to sign his name over again. It’d come out crooked the first time around. The clerk had started to say that what mattered was that Charlie Barber had signed the papers fully aware of what he was doing, before Nicole stepped in and said that it was probably just easier for the clerk to hand over some white-out before Charlie launched into some kind of TED talk about minding the devil in the details. 

Nicole let out a noisy breath and shook herself. She tried her best in her head to _visualize_ a changing of the guard, a turning over of a new leaf. Charlie was ever a fan of _visualizing_ things into being onstage. Making things _real_. 

It took some doing, but Nicole finally managed to visualize herself as divorced. 

“Yeah. Do you?” 

They stood shoulder to shoulder on the broad steps in front of the courthouse, and Charlie wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was staring straight ahead, squinting unhappily into the warm Los Angeles sun, its light bright but also obscured by a thick veil of smog overhead. 

“I think so,” Charlie said, nodding. Despite everything, Nicole thought he sounded unsure of himself. “I can’t tell if I’m relieved or if I’m just starving. I didn’t eat breakfast.” 

Nicole couldn’t help but smile. It felt a little tight and unnatural, but she hoped it made Charlie feel better. It was bad to think like that, so Nicole ignored the thought, percolating at the back of her head. Mostly, it was harmless, couldn’t do any more damage. She remembered the first time she’d resented making Charlie feel better, as she pulled a particularly stubborn cork out of a bottle of red wine. The force of it all meant that her hand had slipped on the bottle and it’d cracked on the floor. Nicole remembered explicitly that the bottle had shattered into what seemed like a hundred pieces, rather than just two. 

“We can get something to eat,” Nicole suggested before she really thought too much about it. “I don’t think I ate breakfast either. My stomach was in knots. I think I thought about throwing up. But then I didn’t.” 

This seemed to surprise him. Charlie’s face, as it was turned towards her, was a canvas of what-ifs. He seemed to pick up the beginnings of expressions, only to lay them back down before they came to fruition. Finally, he seemed to give up on the whole thing and smiled back, a little shy, uncertain. It made it hard for Nicole to breathe, but she managed. 

Charlie said, “I can’t imagine you being nervous.” 

“I used to.” Nicole reminded him. “You remember, right? I didn’t like there not being a camera. It made me feel naked when there wasn’t one.” 

“I probably told you to visualize something.” Something warmed in Charlie’s eyes, usually now so bleak, as he was let in on the joke. Actually, he was never out of the loop to begin with, but he sometimes tried so hard to remember other people’s jokes that other jokes inevitably fell by the wayside. Nicole could have told him that now, but she made a conscious choice not to. 

For once, the choice to spare Charlie’s feelings felt like a choice that she could make again, and not feel bad about it. 

Nicole shrugged. “You did, actually. You told me that I could wear whatever I wanted. But I had to put a none-naked version of myself onstage or else you’d choose for me.” 

Charlie appeared to be thinking it over. Then he nodded, slowly, as if the memory was coming back to him. “Should I tell you what I chose?” 

“Nope.” Nicole shook her head resolutely. That was part of the joke, too. It felt less funny now, but she was determined to stick to it. For some reason, it felt important. 

“Okay. Then let’s get something to eat.” 

Nicole was starting to feel better already. 

At the corner of Spring and East Fifth, opposite a secondhand bookshop that Nicole sometimes visited, they found some ice cream. Not just any ice cream. Handmade, hand-rolled ice cream on a large circular marble slab. Nicole half watched their ice cream rolls, expertly spread out, and then scraped into colorful bowls by a tattooed teenager bopping his head to an electro-poppy beat. The other half of her watched Charlie, as he struggled between looking impressed and looking horrified. 

By unspoken agreement, Nicole and Charlie chose to sit on a bench while they ate. It meant they didn’t have to look at each other. She did feel better, but it was still a process. 

“Henry’s not going to be allowed any tattoos,” Charlie said, delicately picking a large chunk of chocolate chip off the top of his ice cream roll. 

“Henry’s eight years old,” Nicole returned, taking her time and licking her yellow plastic spoon. The ice cream wasn’t really that good, she was disappointed to find, a little too milky and creamy, not enough sugar. She should have asked for extra sprinkles. “I think we can have this conversation in eight years. Ten years, if we’re lucky.” Nicole certainly hoped they were lucky. 

But Charlie was on a roll. He whirled on her. “So, you’re all right with him having a tattoo? Those things are for _life_. What if he wants to do something important in life? Or, get a job that’s not minimum wage.” 

On the tip of Nicole’s tongue, tearing the fresh sutures of her divorce, were the words _for better or for worse, you son of a bitch_. But she couldn’t, in the end. It probably would have surprised Charlie one last time. 

Instead, Nicole took a deep breath. “I’m just saying, that I don’t think it’s fair to make that decision for him right now. Maybe I’ll feel differently when he turns sixteen.” 

Something in Charlie seemed to deflate. “I’m.” He seemed to be gurgling words along with a mouthful of ice cream. “Sorry. But I hope he doesn’t want a tattoo. That won’t change.” 

Nicole looked away from him. “Me too. But anyway, maybe I should go. I’m parked that way.” 

Charlie opened his mouth and closed it. He seemed for the moment, frozen in time and completely held back by the notion of possibility. Then he leaned forward and pecked her very primly on the forehead before dabbing the spot with a napkin. 

“See you.” 

Nicole took her time leaving, taking care to find the nearest trash can not so far away. She could feel Charlie’s eyes glued on her spine this whole time, as if he didn’t want to miss even the littlest taste of the life they were leaving behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is freaking art.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ah23e1hwMNk)


End file.
